O Little Scheme of Bethlehem
by Commander
Summary: "Remember when we traveled in time back to Bethlehem..." What, you don't? Well, now you can learn the story. Christmas one-shot.


(AN: Just a couple of quick notes: first, for those of you who have read my past work and know that about two years ago I updated my profile to state that I no longer write fanfic... that still holds true. This isn't really a return for me, it's more of me finally writing down this story that's been in my head for probably ten years, at least. So no, this is no "triumphant return" for me.

Second, this story deals with religion. It is simply a story, and is intended neither to endorse nor condemn any one religion. However, it _is _intended to endorse the 1951 version of _A Christmas Carol. _;)

I hope you enjoy this story, and I hope my writing skills don't seem as rusty to my readers as I fear they will. Merry Christmas!

...

The wind howled against the cold December night, a nip in the air apparent. It would take more than that to dump a blanket of snow over southern California, but it was still exactly the kind of night to stay curled up at home with a glass of hot chocolate and a Christmas movie.

Normally Pinky was unaccustomed to the ritual. _His _regular nightly ritual, during the winter and every other season, was to go along with whatever scheme the Brain had hatched up, and unfortunately that rarely involved lounging in front of the TV and munching on fresh popcorn. But the Brain had been building something all day, and any questions Pinky had asked him were met with a firm "Not now, Pinky, I'm _busy!" _Most nights, the Brain would have already laid out their plan in great detail by now, perhaps even started to set it in motion, but whatever it was he was building was keeping him busy far longer than usual.

Pinky certainly didn't mind.

With a bowl of popcorn on one side, a mug of cocoa on the other, and his eyes glued to the TV screen, Pinky was thoroughly immersed in the Christmas movie being shown on TV that night, the 1951 version of _A Christmas Carol._

"What a sad, sad man... _narf..." _Pinky murmured as Scrooge's visit from the Ghost of Christmas Past was winding to a close.

"Pinky! Turn that off!" The Brain, finally pulled away from his machine, made his way to Pinky and knocked away the kernel of popcorn that had been in Pinky's hand. "We have no time to lose."

"Aw, but _Braaaaain!" _Pinky protested. "I haven't even seen the Ghost of Christmas Present yet!"

"I'll get you the book for Christmas," the Brain said, rolling his eyes.

Pinky blinked, nonplussed. "There's a book? Poit! They make novelizations of every movie nowadays!"

"The book will also be useful as an instrument with which to hurt you," the Brain deadpanned. "But now, we have far more pressing matters to attend to than Dickens' yuletide fable. While you have been a slave to the television today, I have perfected my masterpiece, that which men for generations have only dreamed of." He motioned towards the small, egg-shaped machine he had been building all day, excitement flooding his voice. "Pinky, I have built a time machine!"

Pinky gasped. _"Narf, _Brain, that's brilliant! Now we can just go back and forth through time and relive whatever we want!"

"Well, not quite." The Brain flushed a bit, embarrassed. "Unfortunately, due to the structure of the fabric of time in conjunction with the charge of the uranium ions used to power its movement, the time machine is only able to travel backwards once. From then on, it is only capable of moving forward through time."

"Oh, well, that complicates things a bit," nodded Pinky in agreement. "I guess we can't go back in time and grab Scrooge and take him back to the stone age and have him live like a caveman for a bit, then?"

The Brain pressed his hand to his face in exasperation. "Pinky, Scrooge is a _fictional character." _Removing his hand, he looked towards the screen, back to his time machine, and sighed. "But you still highlight the issue. While the setback was unavoidable, it still limits what we will be able to do with our new-found power. We must carefully chart our course before using the machine."

"Ooh, ooh, Brain, I know!" Pinky exclaimed, excited. "You can use the machine to travel back to when this movie started so you can watch it from the beginning!"

"Why don't I just use it to go back and bop you before you made such an insipid remark?" the Brain shot back.

Pinky took no notice of the Brain's usual threat, though. He was happily glued back to the screen, the Ghost of Christmas Present admonishing Scrooge's attitude.

"Mortal! We Spirits of Christmas do not live only one day of our year. We live the whole three hundred and sixty-five. So is it true of the child born in Bethlehem. He does not live in men's hearts one day of the year, but in all days of the year."

The Brain's eyes grew wide. "Pinky... are you pondering what I'm pondering?"

"I think so, Brain," Pinky responded, still chewing on a mouthful of popcorn, "but the night's not so silent anymore if we keep singing about it, right?"

The Brain finally followed through on his threat to whack Pinky in the head.

"Ha ha! That wasn't very silent either! Narf!"

"Pinky," said the Brain, getting back on topic, "we will use our time machine to go back to the birth of Jesus Christ!"

Pinky swallowed his popcorn. The Brain often had weird world domination plans, usually ones that Pinky didn't quite understand, but more often than not he was willing to trust that his friend had at least some idea of what he was doing. But this statement was so odd, even from him, that Pinky responded with an equally odd statement, coming from him:

"Uh... excuse me?"

"Think about it, Pinky!" The Brain was getting excited again. "Christianity is the most common religion in the United States, and the United States is the most powerful nation in the world. If I can get the majority of the citizens of the most powerful nation in the world to believe me, by their sacred religious texts, as their rightful ruler, they would pave the way to me _taking over the world!"_

_"Narf!_ But Brain, how are you going to convince Jesus to say those things about you?"

"Quite simple, Pinky-through repeated subconscious messaging. All we have to do is, once a year, whisper in his ear while he sleeps that he must preach that the Brain is the one worthy leader of Earth, sanctioned by God. He will subconsciously absorb this message and, when he begins his ministry to bring the word of God to all people, he will be bringing the word of _the Brain _to them as well!"

"Why just once a year, though? Is leaving a message on a subconscious answering machine really that easy?"

The Brain raised an eyebrow, although it was with a rather approving smile. "Your choice of metaphor is unique as always, my friend. In fact, the subliminal messaging _would _be much more effective if we were to apply it all night, _every _night of his childhood. But even if we spent one hour each night delivering our message, that would take us one and a quarter years to complete."

"But if we have a time machine..."

"A time machine that, after its initial backwards journey, can only travel forward through time, remember? Besides, time for us will not stop. In this hypothetical situation of us visiting Jesus Christ every night for thirty years, a year and a quarter will still pass for us, and frankly, we don't quite have that much of time. I'll be a year old next month, remember."

Pinky blinked. "That's not so bad, is it?"

The Brain sighed. "We are _Mus musculus. _Our lifespan will only be about three years, if we're lucky. So yes, actually, we can't afford a plan that takes a year to implement."

"So how long will it take, then?"

"A one-hour visit to Jesus once a year for thirty years of his own time should be sufficient," said the Brain with conviction.

"Um... and how many years will that take us?"

The Brain rolled his eyes. "Not years, Pinky, _hours. _It will take us thirty-one hours. One for each year."

"I thought you said only thirty years, though?"

"I did," said the Brain levelly. "But our first visit will be at Jesus's birth, before he is a year old." He stepped into the time machine and began entering coordinates into the small keyboard. "Let's not waste more time. The world awaits! ...Pinky, turn that TV off!"

"Aw, please Brain, can't we finish watching the movie?" Pinky pleaded, his eyes glued back to the screen. "It'll be less than an hour! A lot less than your thirty hours!"

"Thirty-one," the Brain corrected, but with a note of defeat in your voice. "Oh, very well, we will finish your movie-"

_"Narf! _Oh, thank you, Brain!"

"-and _then, _we will _take over the world! YEEEESSS!"_

...

Pinky's biblical knowledge was scant, consisting only of what he had picked up through popular media. Pretty much all that he knew about the nativity was that it had happened in a barn of some kind with a bunch of animals all around. Which is why, when the Brain's time machine deposited them in a small, simple house rather than a barnyard, Pinky was confused.

"Gee, Brain, I think we missed a left turn at Jerusalem somewhere. It looks like we're quite a ways from the manger!"

"Pinky, _think," _the Brain scoffed. "The stable in which Jesus was born was filthy, dank, and altogether unsuitable in which to care for an infant. Do you really think Mary and Joseph would have stayed there any longer than they had to? And besides, it's biblical fact that Jesus was moved to a house. 'And when they had come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down and worshiped him', Matthew 2:11, New King James version."

"Who's the 'they'?" Pinky asked.

The Brain strained an ear, hearing voices approach at the door. "Them."

A young woman, who looked to be no more than about fourteen years old, ran to the door upon hearing the commotion herself and flung it open. Four extravagantly dressed men holding ornately decorated boxes smiled warmly at the woman, looking elated that they had finally found what they were searching for.

Pinky frowned. "Egad, Brain, I think we have the wrong house," he whispered. "There were three wise men, not four!"

"Nowhere in the Bible does it say the number of the Eastern learned men who arrived to visit Jesus," the Brain responded, "only that they brought three different gifts. It appears that the nativity scenes are one short... anyway, let's not dawdle. With Mary distracted in greeting the wise men, now is the perfect time to find the child." He grabbed Pinky by the wrist and led him off the ledge they had been standing on as Mary tentatively greeted the wise men in a language Pinky didn't recognize.

"What's she saying to them?" Pinky asked the Brain, the two mice darting as fast as they could to the next room over.

"I know as little Aramaic as you do, Pinky, so I'm afraid I am unable to translate."

One of the wise men, in a slow, calm, comforting voice, spoke more unknown words to Mary.

"That, however, was Latin for 'we come in peace'."

"Aliens?" Pinky breathed in awe.

The Brain sighed. "In the foreign sense, yes. Latin is the universal language for the Roman Empire at this time, although whether a commoner like Mary would have even a working knowledge of the tongue is questionable." He turned the corner into the next room, and there stood a simply yet sturdily built cradle.

_"Yeeessss!" _the Brain exclaimed, perhaps a bit too loudly. Still leading Pinky by the wrist, the two clambered up the bassinet.

"So if nobody understands each other, how are you going to get your subliminal message through?" Pinky asked.

The Brain, having reached the top, was silent for a moment, looking down at the infant. Pinky pulled himself up to join him and examined the baby as well. He looked to be only a few months old, with puffy cheeks and wrinkly hands, nothing out of the ordinary or unexpected.

"Look, Pinky," said the Brain in awe. "This child will one day become the man that billions of people will call God on Earth. The world is already at his feet. Men from thousands of miles away have already arrived just to see an infant! So many lives are already completely under his control. Even if Christians are mistaken and he is not actually God incarnate, he may as well be for all the adoration and worship he receives, simply for existing!"

Baby Jesus exhaled in his sleep, a line of drool pooling out of his half-opened mouth.

Pinky made a face of confusion and slight disgust. "He sure doesn't look like a god to me," he admitted.

"Perhaps not," the Brain admitted, "but if his divinity is to be believed, then it is reasonable to assume that a little earthly thing like language would not be a hindrance to his understanding. I shall speak to him in English, as it is my mother tongue."

"If your mother's a tongue, does that make your father a kidney? Or a spleen? Or some other slimy body part?"

The Brain opened his mouth to admonish Pinky, but the quickly approaching voices of Mary and the wise men stopped him. Whatever language barriers between them existed, Mary seemed to have deduced the reason for their visit and was leading them to the cradle that held her son. Pinky and the Brain leapt off the cradle and ran to the far wall as the wise men bowed down to the child in reverence, holding out their gifts.

"Come, Pinky," instructed the Brain, moving with as much stealth and speed as he could back to the main room, "we must take shelter in our time machine and rest in preparation for tonight."

"Why, Brain?" asked Pinky. "What are we gonna do tonight?"

The Brain took a second to look back at Pinky to raise an eyebrow sardonically.

"Try to take over the world?" Pinky ventured a guess.

"Not quite. Tonight we continue to _implement _our plan to take over the world!"

...

Plenty of the Brain's world domination plans required a lot of set-up. And for every plan that required doing something that was at least potentially fun, there was always a boring step to balance it out, Pinky had learned long ago. But he hadn't been prepared for the sheer drudgery of this plan, and even oohing and ahhing at watching Jesus grow up before their eyes had become tedious.

"Zounds, Brain," Pinky complained wearily, stepping out of the time machine into the darkened room yet again, "are we done yet? It feels like we've been at this for years!"

"In real time, we have, Pinky," said the Brain, following him out of the capsule and onto the ledge where they had landed. He looked no worse for wear; in fact, the steady progress being made towards total global conquest was energizing him with each passing nightly subliminal messaging session. "A good thirty years have passed. But worry not, my friend. This is the year that Jesus will begin his ministry. This is the year that the world will first learn of their future leader! We shall give him one final subconscious nudge, and then-"

"I need no more nudging, Brain. I know your message."

Both Pinky and the Brain yelped at this new voice, despite the fact that it was friendly enough, speaking clear modern English centuries before its evolution. Turning fearfully, they saw a very much wide-awake Jesus sitting on the side of his bed, looking at them with firm eyes yet a gentle smile.

Pinky was able to get words out first. _"Narf... zort... poit... _egad! How do you speak English?"

Jesus gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "As the Brain said, an earthly thing like language doesn't impede my understanding, nor my ability to communicate."

_"Narf," _breathed Pinky in awe.

"Yes," Jesus said with a smile and a nod, "narf indeed."

The Brain finally found his voice, rising with a defensive, angry tremor. "Do you mean to tell us that you have been awake this entire time-all these years-that you have been _tricking _us?"

"You speak of tricking, yet _you're _the one resorting to subliminal, unconscious messaging," Jesus pointed out.

"He's got you there!" Pinky said with a grin, nudging the Brain in the side.

"Oh, never mind that," said the Brain irritably. "The message may not be ingrained in a deeper level beyond your consciousness, but I suppose it will have to do. The silver lining is that you will be fully aware of my message as you preach it."

"Yes, Brain, I am fully aware of _your _message. But do you really think that that's why I'm here?"

The Brain opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.

"Are you here to give everyone free passes to the bowling alley on weekends?" Pinky asked hopefully.

Jesus laughed. "No, Pinky, I'm afraid not."

"But..." The Brain gestured towards his time machine in desperation. "But we've come all this way! And-and besides, if you really are God incarnate, than you _must _know that I am destined to rule the world! That-that it is my _purpose! _That it is what I was _created _for! What _you _created me for!"

"Brain," said Jesus gently, "you were created with leadership, perseverance, determination, and intelligence. They are your gifts, and they are yours to do as you will with them. Yes, the world needs a leader with your qualities. But come now, you can't expect me to hand over world leadership to _everyone _who exhibits those characteristics. You realize that you're far from the only one who aspires to global domination. After all, like the song says, everybody wants to rule the world."

"Oh, I love that song!" Pinky exclaimed in jubilation. _"Welcome to your life!..."_

_"There's no turning back..."_ Jesus sang softly.

Then both, together: _"Even while we sleep, we will find you-"_

"Enough!" shouted the Brain, trying to shake the sense of bewilderment at witnessing one of the world's major religious figures sing a Tears for Fears song in the first century. "I-I'm not asking you to hand it over, I'm asking you to help _spread my message! _I did all the work in coming to you!"

"That you did," conceded Jesus, "but again, your message does not fit in with mine. Think of it this way-as useful as an atom splitter is, you wouldn't utilize it for something such as relationship therapy, would you?"

"That depends, wouldn't it?" Pinky interrupted. "I mean, if it's two atoms that are having problems in their relationship and trying to find the best way of splitting up while still trying to keep it as friendly as possible for the sake of the children-"

"Not now, Pinky," snapped the Brain. "You-Jesus-your metaphors are just as nonsensical as Pinky's. You are not an atom splitter, and I am not a-what I'm trying to say is-"

Jesus reached over to the ledge and gently lifted the Brain into his palm, holding him up to his eye level. "Let me put it this way, my small, furry brother. I am sure that, if you were preparing a plan to take over the world, you wouldn't take kindly to me jumping in and saying 'hey, while you're at it, could you preach the word of God too?'"

"Well..." The Brain hesitated.

"Of course you wouldn't. Regardless of what you feel, it's unrelated to the message you're trying to convey. Our paths on this earth are different. Besides," Jesus added with a knowing wink, "your plan wouldn't have worked anyway."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because they never do?" Pinky ventured.

Jesus shook his head. "Pinky, I know it may seem this way, but your friend is not eternally doomed to failure. However, I can tell you why this particular one was doomed for the start. Brain, you are overestimating the weight my existence will carry."

"That's preposterous!" the Brain protested. "You're Jesus Christ! You are about to found a religion that _billions _will follow!"

"Billions is still only a fraction of the world's population, at least back in your time," Jesus reminded him. "And even regarding the billions of Christians, they will be split and fragmented into scores of denominations that disagree more often than they agree. The Bible will have gone through just as many, if not more, translations and versions, and messages may be lost in the shuffle."

"Maybe we could stay here and take over the world _now, _before all that jumble!" Pinky suggested.

"You'd have even less chance of success now," said Jesus. "In three years, I will be _killed _for my teachings. Many of my followers will follow suit for choosing to believe in me and attempting to spread my message."

"Well, now what?" the Brain asked angrily. "You're saying I've come all this way for _nothing!"_

"Well, we can't have that," said Jesus amicably. "Perhaps returning home with a lesson will make this venture worthwhile."

"I am in no mood for your silly parables."

"This is no parable. It is an affirmation of what you already believe, Brain. Yes, you were created for a grand purpose. You were given gifts and talents to lead you to that purpose, some of which you may not recognize as such." Jesus glanced knowingly at Pinky with this statement.

The Brain felt his cheeks redden, brought on by some combination of embarrassment and anger. Pinky, a _gift?_

"You have a ready, faithful companion who would follow you into hell and back," Jesus said softly. "You have no idea how lucky you are to have that. Even _I _will be denied that kind of loyalty in my lifetime."

The Brain burned even more, now with shame added to the mix. The only think he felt grateful for right now was that Pinky was currently engrossed in cleaning his ears and thus hadn't heard this. The truth of the matter was that deep down, the Brain _did _feel lucky for Pinky's help and companionship, but the feeling betrayed a sense of emotional vulnerability that he was terrified of showing. To have Jesus lay bare his deepest frailties felt like ripping a bandage off a soul that was not yet ready to be out in the open.

"Don't tell me how lucky I am!" the Brain snapped, hastily trying to bury his feelings. "If I were lucky I would already have the world by now. How dare you sit here and lecture me about how I should feel, telling me why I should feel grateful, as if you were..."

"God?" Jesus finished with a smile.

The Brain's shoulders slumped, now completely defeated.

"You have great things in your future, Brain," said Jesus, gently placing the Brain back down on the ledge, next to Pinky, who had finished cleaning his ears. "You too, Pinky. There are wondrous plans for you in store. But those plans are in your _own _lifetime, not here."

"I think he's trying to politely tell us to get lost," Pinky whispered to Brain.

"Not get lost," Jesus corrected, "but it _is _time for the two of you to return home." He smiled knowingly. "Luckily that time machine of yours _can _move forward in time from here on out."

"Thank you for telling me how my own device works," muttered the Brain. "Come, Pinky. There is nothing left to do here." He climbed into the time capsule, Pinky following behind.

"Bye, Jesus!" Pinky called, waving at him. "Thanks for, um... nothing!"

"You needed nothing, so I am happy to oblige," said Jesus, smiling. "Oh, and Brain? In regards to your time machine's limitations, I would suggest neodymium rather than uranium."

"I _certainly _do not need advice on my _own time machine," _the Brain growled. "Come, Pinky!" He fully yanked Pinky into the machine.

"Bye!" Pinky managed to call out once more before the door shut and they disappeared into time.

...

The Brain sat slumped against the wall of their cage, back in Acme Labs, 1994 once more, his hand pressed against his face, trying to make sense of exactly where he'd gone wrong _this _time.

Playing into religion had seemed so foolproof. What other human institution existed that caused mankind to believe such wild, improbable claims along the lines of a mouse being their rightful ruler! Aside from politics, the Brain could think of none. It had all seemed to simple, so easy! All he had to do was sabotage a major world religion into believing that he was their leader, and the world would have been at his feet! True, only the adherents of the religion would have believed it at first, but it was at least a solid first step. He could have been... the Pope, at least.

But no. Not only had he failed, he had wasted their one chance at moving backwards in time.

Well... not necessarily, he realized. Only this _one machine _could never again move back in time. He could always construct a new one. Gathering uranium was not so easy, but it _was _something to at least consider for future plans. He should not completely write off time travel. There were still possibilities.

_Hmm... neodymium._

As much as he'd tried to do otherwise, the Brain had found himself considering Jesus's recommendation. He could see no obvious reasons _against _using neodymium. Perhaps it would be worth a shot. It would be harder to obtain than uranium, of course, but perhaps neodymium was the key to inventing a fully realized time machine, one that could be moved both forwards and backwards through time at will. It was definitely something to consider.

But why, though? The Brain growled in frustration. If he _had _taken home a lesson from his latest debacle, it was that religion was far too messy an affair to get involved with. Even if he did find a way to create a better time machine and go back in time to another religious leader, like Mohammed or the Buddha, he suspected they'd tell him the exact same thing Jesus had. It would be another waste. No, the Brain resolved, he had best leave religion to the confused, unordered masses. When he took over the world, there would be no more need for the confusion that religion brought, anyway.

And besides... The Brain felt himself sitting up a little straighter, his face glowing a little brighter. Hadn't Jesus told him that he _was _worthy of global domination? That there were great plans in store for him? Sure, he had balked on actually helping bring those plans to fruition, but having what could basically amount to God's approval had to mean _something._ In fact, what if he _had _helped, in his own way, by suggesting the neodymium?

"I'm sorry your latest scheme didn't work out, Brain," said Pinky, sitting against another wall and fashioning a figure out of paperclips. "I really thought that one would work this time. And Jesus was so nice to us!"

"Never mind, Pinky." The Brain pushed the time machine plans into a pile of papers in the corner, hidden by the mulch lining their cage. He would keep time travel on the back-burner for now. "I have resolved to keep myself out of human religion from here on out. Politics is a much safer playing field."

"Ew, not if Dan Qualye's playing," Pinky shuddered.

The Brain turned his attention to Pinky's paperclip sculpture. "Pinky, what are you making?"

"Oh! You know that nativity scene some of the lab assistants set up in the break room? Well, since we now know that there were four wise men, not three, I'm making a fourth one to add to their setup! And he's bringing baby Jesus the gift of paperclips! _Narf!"_

"I'll leave you to your mundane frivolities," sighed the Brain. "I just ask that you continue your sculpting quietly, so that I may better prepare for tomorrow night."

"Why, Brain?" Pinky asked, absentmindedly twisting a paperclip back and forth. "What are we going to do tomorrow night?"

"That which the son of God himself has, in his own way, endorsed for us as our purpose." The Brain smiled with renewed hope and energy. _"Try to take over the world!"_


End file.
